


Firestone

by Chancy_Lurking



Series: Felix+ [9]
Category: Sense8 (TV)
Genre: Complicated Relationships, Friendship/Love, Kissing, Mentions of past drug use, Minor Violence, Nightmares, Other, Sharing a Bed, Shippy, Touching, Warm and Fuzzy Feelings, kala dandekar - Freeform, romantic if you want it to be
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-08
Updated: 2017-08-08
Packaged: 2018-12-12 16:50:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,759
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11741175
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chancy_Lurking/pseuds/Chancy_Lurking
Summary: "Love in a blaze of glory is the only kind of love Felix knows to be true and Wolfgang might be the only person he's ever loved in his life."(Felix remembers falling in love like it’s a nightmare and he doesn’t know why.)





	Firestone

**Author's Note:**

> Mm. This leans towards Felix/Wolfgang(+) so if that’s not your thing, maybe skip this one.
> 
> Btw you guys are endlessly sweet, thank you again for the encouragement. Have a lovely week!

Felix remembers the exact moment it happened.

He wasn’t nine or anything quite so tacky, it wasn’t when they first met – that was just juvenile mutual interest, it didn’t start out profound. It happened when he was seventeen years old, blisteringly drunk, and rolling so hard he could barely tell which way was up. _Now_ , he couldn’t tell you who’s party it was or how they managed to get in or even how they afforded the drugs. All he remembers is that the music was pounding loud enough that it felt like it was coming from inside his skull.

There was dayglow-bright paint splattered like cum all over the black wall Wolfgang was propped up against, still swaying, eyes dizzily following Felix and Felix couldn’t stop laughing. There was nothing all that funny, but he couldn’t stop thinking about how, even as he bobbed and weaved to the beat, he didn’t know what language the music was in – _it was German_ – and his fingertips were tingling but none of that mattered because Wolfgang was smiling at him.

And he couldn’t stop _laughing_.

Wolfgang’s eye socket was yellow-green with a fading bruise and his lip was scabbed over where he’d split it after getting thrown face first into a curb. (Felix had bashed that guy over the head with a pint and kicked him into the street. Hadn’t seen where he landed, blinking through his own blood in order to grab Wolfgang and run.) At that age, both their clothes were always the wrong size, but Wolfgang wore it like it was intentional, not like _Felix the Beanpole_ swimming in clothes that would always be too wide for his slender frame.

In the moment, it’d made Felix’s skin crawl – _it wasn’t the clothes_ – and he’d yanked his shirt over his head, yelling and jumping around. He wasn’t sure what he was laughing about… because he recognized – _did he?_ – the hot feeling in his stomach as anger, he was _pissed,_ ok? The music was loud and thrumming in his core and there was Wolfgang, swaying, swaying against that wall, giving him that crooked smile, and Felix was mad about it.

The tears had blended into the sweat on his face and he was screaming out the words to the song, but it wasn’t the song that was playing and someone was telling him to shut up. And he wanted to start in on them, start a fight; the music was so loud it was _vibrating his fucking ribs_ and someone wanted him to _shut up?_ That was asking for it, he and Wolfgang could take him, whoever he was, he could hold him down until Wolfgang staggered off the wall and kicked him in his face, _motherfucker_ , he didn’t know Felix, more than that, he didn’t know Wolfgang. But then again maybe Felix didn’t either, not properly, not yet. Back then, he still had a few things to learn.

At seventeen, Felix had been a little shocked.

Because they _didn’t_ start a fight, Wolfgang didn’t even look like he’d give the other guy the time of day. Instead, he’d shoved off the wall, stumbling directly into Felix’s space and wrapping his arm around Felix’s neck; it was too hot for that and Felix could barely breathe. Not because of Wolfgang’s arm, but because Wolfgang was laughing against his shoulder, Felix’s bare skin greeted with the sweaty, almost-stubbled corner of Wolfgang’s jaw.

“ _You fucking lunatic,_ ” Wolfgang had lifted his head to laugh against Felix’s ear and _that_ was the feeling, screaming laughter, blind fury.

Wolfgang was so blitzed that moving to look Felix in the eyes involved dragging his lips along Felix’s cheek and Felix _wanted_. He wanted, felt the want kick him directly in his fucking stomach. He wanted Wolfgang’s lips on his, wanted to bite him until that stupid scab burst open in his mouth and it was just Felix, not that prick who’d jumped them and thrown Wolfgang to the ground, just a scar left from Felix loving – fuck _, loving_ – Wolfgang so hard it made them both ache. Felix _wanted._

But Wolfgang righted himself to stand without their lips brushing and looked Felix in the eyes. His pupils were huge vats of black rimmed with blue ice and Felix felt that heat in his gut, so like anger, but not, take over the entirety of his soul. He wanted to burn in this, drown in the way Wolfgang’s searched his face and the music suddenly didn’t exist and neither did the flickering colors on the walls. It was only them, it was only the two of them, nobody and nothing else.

Felix was in love, Felix _is_ in love and he’d burn the whole world to prove it.

But the thing is, when he wakes up – in the middle of the night, from that memory eroding its way into his dreams – it feels like a nightmare. He isn’t sure why, but it sends him launching upright in bed, broken out in a cold sweat. He can feel the ghost of Wolfgang’s stubble on his shoulder and Wolfgang’s lips on his face, taste his blood in his mouth, which is something that has definitely never happened, at the very least not at the same time. There’s something wrong and his breath is tight in his chest and—

“Felix?”

Wolfgang’s bark of his name doesn’t make him flinch, but he does when he looks down and realizes he has his fingers sunk into Wolfgang’s chest, just over the pounding of his heart – s _omething that nobody would ever do to a sleeping bear, but here Felix sits, arm and life intact_. But for a moment, the riot in his heart won’t stop and when he thinks of letting go, instead he grips harder.

Wolfgang’s hand comes up to his wrist, not tugging him away or shaking him off, even as his hand squeezes so hard Felix’s bones ache. “ _Felix,_ ” he says like he’s trying to wake him up. Felix isn’t sleeping.

Felix sucks in a breath with the intent to speak, but whatever words he has manage to get lost in a jumble of feeling. “I—”

I, what? What could you fucking say, Felix?

_(I don’t know why I was high off my ass the first time I realized how much I loved you. I don’t know why every time I remember how much I love you I feel like I’m that high again. I don’t know why it felt like a nightmare this time, for the first time tonight, it felt like a tragedy. I’m not a coward, Wolfie, I don’t know why I can’t breathe right now. I don’t know why the thought of kissing you seems like it should involve blood and grit and fire, I don’t know why I think that’s ok, I don’t know why that’s the only way I can see it happening. I don’t know why we couldn’t have been born softer people, except that if we were, we would’ve been burnt down years ago. I’m not a_ fucking coward _,_ _Wolfie, I just don’t want us to burn like soft things. There are soft things in you we have to protect now, but even without them, even you, even_ just _you, Wolfgang, I’d set myself on fire to save you.)_

Love in a blaze of glory is the only kind of love Felix knows to be true and Wolfgang might be the only person he's ever loved in his life; he’s never learned a different way to love. He also feels, from the bottom of his heart, that their blaze of glory is about to burn everything down.

But Felix doesn’t have the words for all that right now, so he just tries to take his hand back.

Wolfgang, though, does not turn him loose. They stare at each other for the span of a few breaths, before both seem to understand the other is not going to speak up like this. Felix lays down, leaving his wrist in Wolfgang’s grip as he stares up at the ceiling.

Felix is just beginning to trip over his words again when he’s, once again, much like that first time, shocked by Wolfgang moving into his space. This time they are not gangly and growing into themselves, and the heat in Felix’s chest is a familiar and welcome burn as Wolfgang tugs him in close. It’s stiff, it’s not like they ever do this, but Felix can feel the genuineness in the action, Wolfgang offering him wordless comfort to Felix’s wordless fears. He lets himself be held.

It takes a few moments, but when Felix starts laughing this time, it’s more subdued, drowsy, but still spawned from that fiery feeling in his chest. “You know? I don’t think… I don’t think I ever missed this.”

“Missed what?”

“ _This,_ ” Felix repeats, he thumps his fist on Wolfgang’s back. “ _This_ sort of thing, the fucking… touchy shit, you know? Pop was gone before mom shat me out, and she fed me when she felt like it, but that was _it._ She never even _pretended_ —” Felix stops, because he doesn’t feel bad about that, he doesn’t. It doesn’t matter that she didn’t love him, he made it, he did fine, he’s made a name for himself. Maybe not a good one, but he’s still _damn_ proud of it, he didn’t need her for that. He doesn’t want to get things mixed up, that’s not what’s paining him tonight, not exactly…

Felix pulls back to look Wolfgang in the face because he has to, he can’t let the words rest like they shame him. “The first time I knew someone loved me we were in a fist fight,” he confesses and he feels like it sets him on fire. “First time I _knew_ I loved someone back…” his voice jerks oddly making Wolfgang’s face twitch sympathetically, “We were high off our asses and I couldn’t stop thinking about the bruises on his face. How I wanted to replace them myself.”

They stare at each other as it sinks it, as Wolfgang accepts what Felix is saying.

_I don’t know how to love anyone but you._

“Felix…” Wolfgang says and Felix shuts his eyes, because Wolfgang has made his voice as soft as Felix has ever heard it directed at him. This close, it feels like more intimacy than Felix knows how to get his head around. “ _Felix_.”

“I don’t know how to care about things without violence, Wolfie,” Felix admits softly. He never hit any of his partners, he isn’t implying that. He may have said some stupid shit when he was young – he was a knucklehead, so sue him – but he never hurt them.

He also isn’t sure he ever loved them.

“I don’t know what their lives are like, the headmates, not really, but…” When Felix opens his eyes, there’s pain on Wolfgang’s face. “If they aren’t like us, that means they had people who…” He thumps his hand against Wolfgang’s back again, tips his head down towards Wolfgang’s arm around his side. “I don’t… know how to do that.”

The unspoken _“but I want to so fucking badly_ ” doesn’t feel unspoken at all, lingering in the silence between them.

“I don’t either,” Wolfgang says finally. “I’m sharing a _head_ with them, I _know_ their lives and I still don’t under—…” his eyes go unfocused for a moment, before glancing over Felix’s shoulder. “Lito wants to speak to us.”

Felix scrunches his face. “What is this, a game of telephone? I’m right here.”

Wolfgang sneers at him, “I was being polite, you _dickhead_.” But immediately after, his face smooths into a sleepy smile and his hand comes up to cup Felix’s jaw, “You two are funny, there should be a movie just about your lives.”

Felix chuckles. “When you hit it big, you can produce it,” he says, “I meant to tell you, I watched _The Mirror Has No Heart_ at work. You’re pretty fucking wicked.”

Lito bites his lip, rolling his eyes in flattered embarrassment. “Aw, another reason to like you. Pretty _and_ smart,” his face crinkles. “Well, smart sometimes. You aren’t thinking straight tonight.”

“…Is that a pun?” he doesn’t react other than a nervous smirk when Lito smacks his shoulder.

“ _No_ , I’m saying…” Lito squints in thought. “We shouldn’t matter this much.”

“ _What?_ ”

Lito continues almost as if he’s talking to himself, “You _talk to us_ like we matter to you.”

Felix nearly sits up. “You _do_ matter, what--?”

“I mean, you accepted us as part of Wolfgang _immediately,_ you _believed_ him when he told you we weren’t just voices. You know that’s crazy, right? You’re crazy,” Lito laughs with a brilliant grin. “But even so, you could’ve just accepted that Wolfgang had us and let that be, but you didn’t! You didn’t treat us like friends-of-a-friend, even though that would’ve been _fine._ You got to know us personally, our tastes in music and food, how to make us smile.” He shakes Felix lightly, “You watched my movie!”

 “It was a good movie,” Felix grumbles defensively, warm and uncomfortable.

“Yes,” Lito agrees, “but would you have watched it if I weren’t in it? Or would you and Wolfgang keep up with _Indian singing contests_ if not for Kala?”

“ _No_ , but that’s…”

“We know you would go to war for us,” Lito cuts in and Felix’s mouth clicks shut. “We know that, and not just because Wolfgang knows you would do anything for him. We can see it, too. And that does mean something.” He strokes Felix’s cheek, “But the fact that you talk to us like individuals, and hold us when we are frightened, and keep up with the things we care about means something, too. So does the fact that Wolfgang will let you.”

Felix actively has butterflies which is a feeling he hasn’t had in years. He half wants to ask if that’s what love is like when it’s soft, if it’s the easy things, the small things; the things you don’t have to bleed to keep. He’s never wondered that, not so directly. He hates how that uncertainty makes his voice come out small and shaky. “We don’t know if we can do this softly,” because they may be Wolfgang’s headmates, but he can feel Wolfgang, too, in his own way. “We don’t know how.”

“You already _do_ love us softly, Felix, even if you didn’t know to call it that.” Lito says gently and Felix is shocked by his own lack of shock when Lito uses Wolfgang’s mouth to kiss him. “And we love you softly as well.”

This time, when Wolfgang takes his body back, it isn’t a startled jerking motion. He’s tense, but he has also hardly moved, staying close enough to share Felix’s breath. His eyes are shut tight like he might be frightened to open them.

Felix is, similarly, frightened of what he might see in them when he does.

“You…” he starts, then flounders. He swallows, searching Wolfgang’s face. “You probably should’ve gotten dibs on that.” He relaxes when Wolfgang lets out a quiet laugh.

Wolfgang shifts, evenly meeting Felix’s eyes. “Kala wants dibs on third. If you’re down,” he says hesitantly and the butterflies in Felix’s stomach are abruptly throwing a rave in his whole body.

A smile stretches over his face, mocking and enamored, steadily considering how hard his heart is beating against Wolfgang’s. “Who’s on second?” he asks and guffaws when he gets whacked in the face with a pillow.

“My _ass!_ ”

Before Felix can point out that that’s more a fourth date sort of thing, Wolfgang’s lips are back against his a second, a third, a fourth time. No blood, no ash, no gunfire or wailing sirens – nothing falls apart or blows up when Felix opens his mouth to Wolfgang’s tongue. His heart is _pounding_ , but neither of them are dying, there’s nothing here to hurt them. Felix has to think this to himself several times before it sinks in, but then he’s laughing brightly against Wolfgang’s smile. This is fine, it’s all fine because it’s _them_.

It’s just Wolfgang and Felix and their shared breaths and touching lips and the raging fire settling in Felix’s chest, like it’s content to let Wolfgang tend this fireplace forever.

It’s just them.

 

And Lito giggling dreamily into Dani’s hair and pulling Hernando closer to his back, pleased at his own meddling. And Kala, warm and smiling into her palm, feeling the ghost of Felix’s lips on hers and her heart beating in time with Wolfgang’s.

**Author's Note:**

> Is this…? Platonic? Romantic? Polyamory? Are they just dudes being bros who have a lot of feelings? And who kiss sometimes? Soul mates? Take your pick, whatever warms your insides? 
> 
>  
> 
> ~~Though I kinda want Wolfgang to spill the beans about cluster fucks wow what a mess~~
> 
> 20/IX/17: Typo edit.


End file.
